


Dearly Beloved

by renrenners



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caspar von Bergliez Being an Idiot, Casphardt Fan Fest (Fire Emblem), Drunken Shenanigans, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Humor, M/M, Wedding Prompt, background claurenz, no beta we die like Glenn, rated for nudity but it's not who you'd think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renrenners/pseuds/renrenners
Summary: “Well if you love me so much then why don’t you marry me?” Linhardt asks dryly, slowly trying to get them moving again.It’s a joke. It is most obviously a joke, because while Linhardt has loved Caspar for years he is all too aware of where his friend’s preferences lie. It’s something that Caspar will laugh off, clapping him on the back with all the strength of a man who swings an axe around like it’s nothing, and they will move on with their lives.Except there’s no laughter. Casper merely stands there, eyes wide as he stares at Linhardt as though he’s had a revelation. Before Linhardt can even worry about the implications of this, however, Caspar’s grabbed onto his hands with a wide grin.“That’s a great idea!”—The defending of Derdriu is a resounding success. The victory celebrations after are considerably less so.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77
Collections: Casphardt Fan Fest 2020





	Dearly Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for a kink meme fill but it took me so long to get started on writing it that I'm pretty sure someone's already filled it. So instead here it is for the Casphardt Fan Fest for the day 6 prompt Weddings!
> 
> Genuinely cannot believe that my first FE3H fic is this nonsense but here we are.

The floating city of Derdriu is alight with celebration, every corner awake and rejoicing as the night stretches on. It’s hardly a surprise, given that mere hours ago the city was under attack, but Linhardt, for one, never much cared for victory celebrations. Especially not those that cut into precious sleeping hours.

Still, he can hardly blame the city folk or his comrades for their joy. Retaking Fhirdiad, and now defending Derdriu from a similar invasion, seemed to be the tipping point in this war. What had once felt impossible was now within reach. All that was left now was Enbarr, and while Linhardt couldn’t say he was looking forward to it, he is more than ready for all of this to end.

Right now, however, all he wants is a bed. After all, Claude’s put them up with actual rooms, rather than the bedrolls and tents that would otherwise be awaiting them, and Linhardt has been longing for that warmth and comfort for hours now. If he had had it his way he’d have been in one too, but celebrations meant alcohol, which in turn meant that a certain someone needed sober supervision.

It would not be the first time that Caspar got himself into trouble, nor would it be the last. After all, a Caspar who didn’t cause trouble, well, just wouldn’t be Caspar. 

“You’re the best, Linny.” Caspar drawls, his words slurring together as he drapes an arm over Linhardt’s shoulder to pull him into a drunken semblance of a hug.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Linhardt answers, struggling under the added weight as he steers Caspar out of a door and down what he _thinks_ is the hallway that should eventually lead to their rooms. This close he can smell the alcohol on Caspar’s breath and if it had been anyone else he would have found it repulsive. The fact that he no longer finds it repulsive on Caspar speaks a lot for the past five years they’ve spent together as defects of their homeland. 

“No, you don’t!” Caspar continues insistently, wobbling as he takes a step back only to steady himself with a hand clasped tightly on each of Linhardt’s shoulders. There’s a look in his eyes that Linhardt knows all too well, one that lets him know he’s in for a long, rambling speech about whatever it is that’s going through Caspar’s drunken mind. Any hopes he might have had about getting them to bed quickly are clearly dashed, and if this was anyone else he would probably just leave.

But it isn’t anyone else. It’s Caspar, and so Linhardt merely lets out a sigh, resigned to his fate.

“Linny. Lin. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. My best friend. Probably the only person who will put up with me forever and ever. And I love that about you! You’re so nice, even when I mess up and I just— I just really love you.”

“Well if you love me so much then why don’t you marry me?” Linhardt asks dryly, slowly trying to get them moving again.

It’s a joke. It is most _obviously_ a joke, because while Linhardt has loved Caspar for years he is all too aware of where his friend’s preferences lie. It’s something that Caspar will laugh off, clapping him on the back with all the strength of a man who swings an axe around like it’s nothing, and they will move on with their lives.

Except there’s no laughter. Casper merely stands there, eyes wide as he stares at Linhardt as though he’s had a revelation. Before Linhardt can even worry about the implications of this, however, Caspar’s grabbed onto his hands with a wide grin.

“That’s a great idea!”

“That’s a what now?” Linhardt asks, deadpan. He is nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this. In fact, he’s not drunk at all, which is a decision he is quickly coming to regret.

“A great idea!” Caspar repeats, loud enough to wake the dead. “We need to find Claude! He should be around here somewhere right?”

“Caspar it was a _joke_ —”

“Hey when was the last time you saw Claude?” Caspar barrels on, now deciding that it’s time to start moving again and all but dragging Linhardt along with him, “I feel like it was a couple hours ago but I don’t actually know what time it is. Do you know what time it is Linny?”

“It is time to sleep, so why on earth do we need Claude?” Linhardt asks, exasperated and exhausted. All he had wanted was to go to bed, but he’d had to open his stupid mouth.

“So he can marry us!” Caspar says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Did you know that all of the Alliance council members have the power to marry people? He told me about it back at the academy and I thought it was stupid but I guess it’s not!”

“Didn’t the Alliance just get merged with Faerghus? It was literally just hours ago, Caspar, please tell me you still remember that. You cannot possibly be so drunk that you’ve forgotten.”

“Hey do you think Dimitri can marry people? I mean, he’s king now so he must be able to! I guess Seteth probably could too, but he’d probably just yell at us instead so I still think we should go with Claude. Do you know where Claude is?” Somehow Caspar is getting louder with every word, and given how loud he is _usually_ that doesn’t bode well for Linhardt’s rapidly disappearing hope of going to sleep.

“He’s probably in bed, which is where we should go too.” Linhardt says, despite the distinct feeling that Caspar has not heard a single word he’s said since that stupid joke.

Caspar laughs, “We can’t get married in bed, Linny! That comes after!”

It’s a good thing Caspar’s too focused on dragging them down the hall to be looking at Linhardt, for he’s sure his face is an embarrasing shade of red. 

_A joke_ , Linhardt thinks, _This is all because of a damn joke._

“Caspar, wait.” He calls, “How do you even know where you’re going?”

“If our rooms are this way then Claude’s should be too!” Caspar answers, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world. He’s practically jogging now, twisting through empty corridors. 

“And how, exactly, do we know which one is his?”

“I mean, shouldn’t it just be the one with the fanciest door? Oh, we can just knock on all of them! We’ll find him eventually!”

It is, perhaps, the stupidest thing Caspar has ever said, which is saying a lot. Linhardt would tell him as much if he wasn’t already horribly out of breath from their impromptu dash through the Derdriu palace’s residential wing. As far as he’s concerned it should be illegal to even be awake this late, let alone running around like an idiot.

Caspar steers them around another corner only to come to a crashing halt when he collides with who Linhardt can only assume is the most unfortunate maid in the entire city. It does mean he’s no longer running, however, so he’s not about to complain.

Linhardt only half listens as Caspar talks at the girl a mile a minute, his apology blending seamlessly into a very enthusiastic enquiry about the location of Claude’s chambers. Catching his breath is a much more pressing need, so he tunes the conversation out in favor of collapsing on the ground. It is nowhere near the comfortable bed that he has been longing for all night, but it’s also better than nothing, so he lets his eyes drift shut. It’s far too late to be awake, yet here he is.

He opens them again only when he feels Caspar poking at him, and even then it is incredibly reluctant. “Please tell me we can go to bed now.” Linhardt says, not budging from his spot on the floor.

“I know where Claude is!” Caspar answers, which is decidedly not what Linhardt wanted to hear, “C’mon, let’s go!”

“This is stupid, Caspar.” Linhardt tells him as he sits up with a groan, wincing as he does, “Let’s just go to bed and revisit this in the morning.”

Because a sober Caspar would most definitely object to whatever it is that drunk Caspar is trying to do. Unfortunately for Linhardt, he’s stuck with drunk Caspar, and neither of them are good at taking no for an answer anyways.

“After, Linny!” Caspar insists, grabbing his friend by the hands to pull him up off of the floor, “We’re almost there! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” 

Linhardt can only sigh, “Can we at least walk? Any more running and you’ll be carrying me instead.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” Caspar asks, a spark in his eyes that Linhardt can only attribute to the alcohol, “I can do that!”

“No, Caspar, I do not want that.” He says with another sigh, “Let’s just… go.”

Once again Caspar pulls him along, though thankfully at a relatively leisurely pace this time. It takes only minutes before Caspar is pounding on a heavy wooden door, and Linhardt cannot help but make one final objection to all of this nonsense. “He’s likely already asleep, Caspar, why on earth would he want to do us a favor after you wake him up in the middle of the night?”

From beyond the door comes a loud thud and Linhardt winces. Claude is certainly not going to be in any mood to be handing out favors, though truthfully that’s probably for the best. Even if Caspar refuses to listen to the countless reasons why this impromptu wedding is a horrible idea Claude, at least, should have the sense to turn it down.

Linhardt’s thoughts cut off when the door is wrenched open, an extremely naked Claude glowering at them from the other side, “I thought I made myself clear when I said I did not want to be interrupted— oh.” He blinks, confused, as if seeing the two of them for the first time, “What are you guys doing here.”

There are bite marks and bruises littering his neck and chest, and while Linhardt can’t see through the darkness of the room there’s a suspiciously familiar perfume wafting out. Caspar, bless his heart, seems to notice none of this.

“Can you marry us?” Caspar asks, practically bouncing up and down as he does. Claude stares at him, blinks, and then turns to look at Linhardt instead, as if expecting him to have any sort of explanation for all of this.

And while Linhardt could try to explain, it’s much easier to instead add, “And maybe put some clothes on to do it?”

“Oh!” Caspar exclaims, glancing down quickly as though he only just noticed now that their former classmate and no-longer-leader of the Alliance is, in fact, completely nude, “Congrats dude!”

“Wait here.” Claude says with an exasperated sigh before stepping back and all but slamming his door shut, leaving the two once more alone in the hall.

“It’s great to know that Claude’s had someone here with him through all of this.” Caspar immediately starts to babble, because staying quiet isn’t something he’s mastered while sober, let alone shit-faced, “War’s miserable enough as it is, being alone through it has gotta be the worst. I dunno what I would do if I didn’t have you, Linny.”

“If my suspicions are correct then it would be more accurate to say that we brought him someone.” Linhardt says lazily, cocking an eyebrow when Caspar gives him a confused squint, “Come now, Caspar. You had to have smelled it. The only person in the world responsible for the sheer amount of rose perfume that was wafting from that room is none other than our dear old Lorenz.”

“Didn’t they hate each other?” Caspar asks, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that Linhardt definitely does not think is adorable, “Lorenz was always like ‘Claude this’ and ‘Claude that’ and _definitely_ not in the good way. But hey, good for him finally replacing that stick in his ass with something else.”

“Caspar if you ever make me think about any of our colleagues having sex again I will kill you.”

“No you won’t!” Caspar’s grin is almost blinding, “You love me too much!”

And oh, how true that is. Caspar doesn’t even know the half of it, and they’re standing here about to get married.

Linhardt is never making a joke again in his life.

It is then that Claude reappears in rumpled clothes and fixes the both of them with a steady glare, “You two owe me for this, you know.”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Linhardt cannot help his sly grin, because having caught _Claude_ of all people like this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. It’s almost a shame that he won’t be able to share it with anyone come morning, really. 

Claude doesn’t seem to appreciate it, if the look on his face is anything to go by. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” Claude grumbles, gesturing vaguely at the two of them. Caspar’s eyes light up and he grabs Linhardt’s hands enthusiastically, his face split in a grin, “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here tonight to join these two in holy matrimony despite the fact that it’s two in the damn morning and they’re drunk idiots.”

For the first time that night Linhardt is actually grateful for how completely shit-faced Caspar is right now. If he wasn’t he would probably notice how sweaty Linhardt’s hands are in his, or how he can’t seem to tear his eyes from Caspar’s face. Granted, Caspar being shit-faced was what got them into this position at all, but it is partially his own fault for making that stupid joke in the first place. Not that he would admit as much out loud, of course, but still. At the very least he will have this moment to look back on, Caspar holding his hands as though he is the most precious thing in the world, eyes lit up with joy.

Mentally he makes a note to ask someone about how divorces work in Faerghus. Assuming they make it out of the war alive, that is.

“And with the Goddess as our witness, yadda, yadda, I now pronounce you man and man, you may kiss the groom and I’m going back to bed.” Claude finishes with a lazy flourish of his hand. This seems to be all the encouragement that Caspar needs to close the distance between them, his hands cupping Linhardt’s face and dragging him into a kiss. It’s drunken and sloppy, their noses crashing together in the process but Linhardt wouldn’t change it for the world.

Claude’s long gone by the time they part and Linhardt’s grateful for it. He’s overcome by an unfamiliar surge of emotion, all of the pieces of him that have loved Caspar for so long falling into place. It was an absolute farce of a wedding, potentially not even legal, but at least for this one night he’s married to Caspar.

There are tears stinging in his eyes as he pulls Caspar in for another kiss and, under the comfort that his new husband will have absolutely no recollection of any of this come morning, he allows himself to murmur, “I love you.”

Caspar laughs, his usual boisterous laugh that should have been annoying, would have been if it was anyone else, but is actually, in fact, one of Linhardt’s favorite sounds, “I love you too, Linny!”

He doesn’t mean it in the way that Linhardt does, but for tonight, at least, Linhardt will pretend otherwise.

“Please tell me we can finally go to sleep now.”

  
—

  
They’re back at Garreg Mach within a week, and it’s as though nothing had ever happened. Which is for the best, really. As predicted, Caspar woke up the morning after with a raging hangover and no recollection of anything past his fourth drink. The only mildly suspicious part was that they shared a bed, but even that wasn’t too uncommon, given that Caspar still snuck into his best friend’s bed whenever there was a thunderstorm. 

So Linhardt resolves to forget about it. No one but Claude knew anyways, and given that he had vanished off to Goddess-knows-where that same morning the likelihood of him telling anyone was slim. It was a stupid, drunken adventure, no different from all the other times Caspar’s impulsiveness had gotten them into trouble.

Besides, their upcoming siege on Fort Merceus was looming on the horizon. Wasting precious time on anything besides their efforts to end this damned war was stupid.

Being Caspar’s friend is enough. To sit next to him at the dining hall as he tears into his food and attempts to talk to Ashe across the table at the same time. Which is, admittedly, incredibly gross, but Linhardt has long since stopped trying to make sense of what, exactly, he finds attractive about his best friend.

Caspar cuts off in the middle of his exaggerated dinner time story when someone clears their throat behind them. There’s a glower printed firmly on Lorenz’s face as he approaches them and he’s holding a rolled up scroll that, if Linhardt isn’t mistaken, bears the Riegan family seal.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that if you’re not careful.” Caspar comments through his mouthful of food, and as disgusting as it is Linhardt almost doesn’t mind, if just for the visible shudder that runs down Lorenz’s spine.

“Your concern is duly noted.” Lorenz says with a huff before passing Linhardt the sealed scroll, “What you see in him is beyond my comprehension, but I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Congratulations?” Ashe echoes, peering forward across the table to get a better look as Linhardt carefully cuts the seal, “What is it?”

“Yeah, Linny, what is it?” Caspar nudges up against his side, “C’mon, take it out already.”

Linhardt almost doesn’t want to, not with dread coiled deep in the pit of his stomach, but he spreads out the curled paper out all the same.

In his hands is a marriage certificate. Complete with both of their names and Claude’s rolling signature, followed by what looks like a crude drawing of a middle finger.

There’s no time for words before Linhardt is on his feet, pulling Caspar away from their meals with a speed wholly unfamiliar to him. He doesn’t have a destination in mind, only the immense desire to be anywhere without other people around. The gardens are largely empty, given that most everyone is at dinner, but Linhardt still navigates them to a secluded corner where there surely won’t be any prying eyes.

The marriage certificate is still clutched in his hand, the paper crumpling in his grip. Caspar’s eyes are all but glued to it, his brow furrowed like he was stuck on a particularly difficult exam question, and under any other circumstances it would have been adorable.

Instead Linhardt is simply terrified.

“When… did we get married?” Caspar asks bluntly, finally wrenching his eyes up to meet Linhardt’s.

“For the record, I told you it was a bad idea. Repeatedly.”

“Linhardt when—”

“After the battle at Derdriu. You were drunk, I made a stupid joke, now we’re here.”

He can practically see the gears turning in Caspar’s head as he processes this information. Their hands are still together, and as much as Linhardt knows that he should pull away, he doesn’t. His palm is clammy and sweaty and gross, and he desperately wants to wipe it on something, but if this is the end of their friendship then he’s going to take as much as he can get.

“So we’ve been married for two weeks and you just… didn’t bother to tell me?” 

Linhardt knows what’s coming next, is braced for the anger that Caspar has never directed at him before. He deserves it, he knows, for taking advantage of the only friendship that has ever mattered to him. 

Sixteen years, and this is how it ends. 

“Did you… want to?” Caspar asks, and Linhardt hates how broken he sounds about it. Of course the thought of marrying his best friend is upsetting, and as much as he knows it will not end well he cannot bring himself to lie. Not about this.

“Yes.” Confessing things like this is supposed to make one feel lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted off of them. Linhardt, however, feels worse. This secret that he had kept buried in his chest for years was finally out, but it does nothing to ease the erratic pounding of his heart as he waits for it to all come crashing down.

Caspar deserves the truth, but Linhardt isn’t so sure that he will survive it.

The silence between them seems to stretch for an eternity. Silence is rare whenever Caspar’s involved, and while any other day Linhardt might cherish the opportunity, right now he loathes it. 

Except then Caspar’s face breaks into a wide smile, laughter bubbling out of his lips and Linhardt— 

Linhardt doesn’t understand. He’s standing here with his heart outstretched, ready to break, and Caspar’s _laughing_. 

“Lin!” Caspar’s grinning now, smile stretched from ear to ear and there is nothing malicious or mocking about it. And Linhardt still doesn’t understand, is still frozen with fear and dread as Caspar all but flings himself at him, those strong arms embracing him so tightly he can’t breath. It’s not until Caspar lifts him up off of the ground, spinning him around in the air, that he comes back to himself with a particularly undignified yelp.

“Caspar! Put me down!”

“Not a chance!” Caspar crows, though he does, thankfully, stop the spinning, “You married this, Linny!” He’s brighter than the sun, Linhardt thinks, in the moment before their lips meet. It is not their first, but Caspar doesn’t taste like cheap liquor this time and it is that realization that allows Linhardt to go limp in his embrace.

Caspar wants this too. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Caspar asks when they finally part and Linhardt’s feet are back on safe, solid ground, “Were you not going to say anything ever?”

“I was not entirely sure of the validity of it all.” Linhardt offers, and with Caspar’s arms around him the last of his fear is sucked away, “Claude did it in the hallway outside of his bedroom after we’d interrupted his one night with Lorenz. I didn’t think he’d actually go through with the paperwork in the morning, all things considered.”

“Holy _shit_ , no wonder Gloucester’s been glaring daggers into me ever since.” He says with a laugh, beaming up at Linhardt all the while, “I figured he just had that stick up his ass again.”

“You’re really… not mad.” Linhardt says, an unusual hesitancy in his words.

“I mean, a little bit!” Caspar says with a shrug, “Mostly just ‘cus you didn’t tell me, though. And also ‘cus I can’t remember it, but I guess that’s really my fault. But that’s all canceled out by the fact that I’m _married to you_ , Linny. And also it’s hard to be mad when I think about how pissed our fathers are going to be. Do you think they’d actually try to come here to yell at us, or just yell at each other about it?”

“Caspar I am in love with you.” Linhardt tells him, because for the first time in his life there is a sprout of hope growing in his chest that those feelings were not one sided. Years he had lived with this, long before their time at the Officer’s Academy, and it is only now, standing in the empty garden of Garreg Mach, that he is brave enough to say it.

Somehow, Caspar’s brilliant grin turns even more blinding, “I love you too, Linny.”

**Author's Note:**

> Claude submitted the paperwork as a final Fuck You. The middle finger was Lorenz's idea.   
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and come talk to me on twitter [@ren_renners](https://%5Bhttps://twitter.com/ren_renners)!


End file.
